Sleep Well, My Lord
by CadenceMassacre
Summary: One-Shot on the last days before the Battle of Hogwarts. BL/LV


**This is just a little one-shot I thought of while listening to "Sleep Well, My Angel" by We Are The Fallen. It might be a little OOC, but it's basically a mental image I had of one of the last days before the Battle of Hogwarts. Hope you guys like it!**

_"Stay with me..."_

He had said those words before, so many years ago. It was the end of a meeting with the Death Eaters, when the Dark Lord was at the height of his power and glory. His followers were filing out one by one. All of them left as fast as their legs could carry them, not wanting to linger any longer than was necessary in the Dark Lord's presence for fear of what could happen in those extra seconds. All of them except Bellatrix, that is. No, she did just the opposite. She stayed behind for as long as she could, drinking in the sight of him, listening to the sound of his voice, and breathing the same air as him, for every added second she could as though it was her elixir, for in a way, the Dark Lord was that.

Normally he would sneer at her glazed gaze of unguarded adoration, hiss at her for dawdling, and tell her to make haste and leave him. That night, it was all different, though. Instead of a sneer, there was a smirk, where they might have been Crucios cast upon Bellatrix, there were kisses and caresses, and he soon pulled her towards him not in anger, but in lust.

No such things shall take place now.

The last time he spoke those words, it marked the beginning. The beginning to his downfall, and her maelstrom of grief, as she now lost not only her Master, but lover as well. Now history is to repeat itself, for although he won't tell her why, Bellatrix knows the Dark Lord's fears are growing with each passing day. He is colder, harsher, and as unforgiving as he ever was before, for he now knows his days are limited. He can feel the icy breath of Death upon him, just as much as Bellatrix can feel her Lord's agonizing terror of what lies ahead for him.

_"Stay with me..."_

It wasn't an order, but a request. Had Bellatrix desired to do so, she could very well have said no. Not that she would have, of course. She would, and had, gone to Hell and back for her Lord, and would do so again and again should he ask it of her. She nodded silently, taking the offered hand and followed him to his bedroom.

Now here they lay, upon his bed. Their limbs are not tangled in the rippling ecstasy as they once were, nor does she lay her head upon his chest as he shields her and warms with her with the radiating Dark Magic within him. Instead, this time it is her who shields him.

She rests against the lush pillows of the majestic bed while he, the Dark Lord, rests against her. He is curled upon her, his head pillowed upon her chest, wrapped in her arms. At another time, he would have loathed such contact but now, in his solemn hour, he craves it, evident by the fact that he too clings to her, so hard that Bellatrix is sure that with the morning light, there shall be bruises upon her. It matters not though, for her Lord needs her. He needs someone to watch over him as he sleeps; for fear that he shall never wake again.

Tears fill onyx orbs as their owner watches her Master's form, wishing with all that she is that she can heal him, and take away all the pain and fear that plagues him. But she is no fool. She knows she can do no such thing, so she does the one thing she can do. Slowly and hesitantly, for fear of the Dark Lord's reaction, she presses a kiss upon his brow, lingering far longer than she should have.

Sure enough, her fears are brought to life.

"Bellatrix..." he breathes out. Her heart to race with fear of his reaction and what he may do to her. She stutters, struggling to form an apology until she hears his next few words. "Bella... My most loyal, most faithful follower..." before tightening his hold upon her, and leaning towards what she bestowed upon him.

It isn't the declaration of love she wishes it to be, nor does it have any meaning, for in the morning they return to their roles as cruel, displeased Master, and desperate, worthless servant. For now though, and for all of eternity, those words mean everything to Bellatrix.

She breathes a sigh of relief, blinking away the tears of empathy, before tightening her hold upon him, pressing her forehead lightly against his. Her hand moves over to rest upon his heart. She knows she shall never be its keeper, but it doesn't matter. It makes no difference. She can't say that the Dark Lord is hers, but nor can she, or anybody for that matter, say he isn't. And that is all that matters.

"Sleep well, My Lord." she whispers into the night. "Sleep well..."


End file.
